Deep Breath
by Luna C. Starque
Summary: I hate the title, but I couldn't think of anything else. Basically, this a Creek fic with the alternating views of, well, Tweek and Craig. COMPLETE! And a special surprise somewhere inside...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Another chapter fic, because right now, I'm full of caffeine and can't sleep. Just a clarification- every other chapter is Tweek or Craig's point of view, so it goes Chapter 1: Tweek, Chapter 2: Craig, etc., etc., etc. I'm warning you now because I hate those "So-and-so's POV" signs at the top of pages. Hopefully, though, it'll be clear from the content and text whose point of view it is. Happy reading, and please review._

_Luna _

The Cows are losing again. I don't know why I even come to these things. It's not like they have coffee here. Speaking of coffee, I have to take a piss.

When I get back, my bladder isn't full anymore, but in my veins flows nothing but caffeine, I'm sure of it. Oh god. My knees are weak and shaky. The people all around me are screaming. Oh, god-- what did I do?! I wish they would stop, I'm drowning in their noise. Oh shit. My thermos of coffee's rolling into the bleachers. I need that-!

I pitch forward and I'm falling forever. I'm never going to hit the ground I'll be stuck in this motion forever oh god oh god oh god- Crack. I'm on the field. No, I'm on a person. "Ow! Fuck! My leg!" I hear. His face is screwed up in pain, and I recall the deafening crunch when I hit the ground. Oh god. I've killed him. He's dying, and I'm going to be arrested for murder! I can't go to jail! I'll get ass-raped. Ah! I don't even notice I'm screaming the words out loud until Stan and Kyle are beside me, clutching my arms.

"Dude! Tweek, it's okay, calm down!" Stan's voice is way too loud. I flinch.

"Yeah, Craig's fine! His leg is just broken, is all." Kyle's tone is soothing but his words aren't.

"Just broken?! He'll never walk again!" Craig's going to kill me. I know it.

"Tweek, he's just gonna go to the doctor, and he'll get a cast and his leg will heal, and everything will be fine."

"He's gonna kill me!"

"No he won't," says Kyle. I don't believe him. I need to see Craig and tell him I didn't mean it. I need to make _sure _he's not going to kill me.

-- Later that day--

Hospitals make me nervous. Everyone's waiting to die here. I jump up and down, just to get my blood pumping and prove that I'm alive. If I don't, they'll cart me down to the morgue, cut me open and take my organs out!

Deep breath. In. Out.

Like the doctor said. Ah! Doctor! I'm gonna die! Craig's gonna kill me! Craig! I have to see Craig and apologize.

"May I help you?" The nurse is raising her eyebrows, and I can tell she's just itching to cut me up and take my organs.

"Ah! No! I mean yes! I need Craig Nommel's room!"

She looks down at her clipboard of Death. What if there's a list of names of people to kill on that thing?! Please, don't write my name, I'm not ready to die... the breath I didn't know I was holding escapes my lungs as she looks up without writing anything. "Room 403. Visiting hours end in half an hour, so you'd better hurry." I'm hurrying.

There's his room. It smells like sick people. Like blood. I take a whiff of the coffee in my thermos.

Deep breath. In. Out.

"Craig!"

He jumps in his bed. "Tweek?"

"I didn't mean to kill you!"

"Tweek, I'm fine. A little pissed that I won't be able to play the rest of the season-"

"Ah!"

"-- But other than that, fine."

"So you're not gonna kill me?" Why does he look so confused?

"What? No! Where'd you get that idea?" I don't know. I gulp down my coffee. Ethiopian Fancy. It's strong. My muscles contract, and the thermos is tumbling out of my hands before I can stop it. Craig's reaching out his hands and then he's holding my coffee. "Damn it." There's coffee splattered on his chest and I shriek in apology. "Tweek- Tweek! Stop shrieking! The other people are resting!"

No they aren't. They're staring at me, all of them, with their IVs and the dark circles under their eyes and their casts and they look like zombies! Ah! Oh, Jesus, they're going to eat my brains! I'm snatching my coffee out of Craig's hands and then I'm gone.


	2. Chapter 2

What's wrong with that kid? He's fucked up in the head, I swear it. He comes in to apologize for killing me (to which all I can say is what the _fuck_) and then runs out screeching something about zombies.

"Maybe he should be the one in the hospital," an old man says solemnly. Poor guy just had a hip replacement. I flick him off. He should mind his own business.

"Hey, kid, what's your problem?" asks a girl about my age who's about to have surgery. She's scowling at me. She looks scandalized as she says, "You can't just go flipping off old guys! And besides, Mr. Withers is right, that guy's a cocaine addict or something. He probably should be in the hospital." I flick her off, too.

The weird thing is I agree with these people. Tweek's fucking insane. But I'm running out of pain killer, they got his drug of choice wrong, and not to mention, they don't even _know_ him, so they're pissing me off. Suddenly I wish I could kill these people. I wish I could kill a lot of people. But not Tweek. I... don't think I could ever want to kill Tweek. He's so... innocent. And paranoid. Really paranoid. It's kind of ironic that the one person I could never want to hurt is the most afraid of my wrath.

But the way I see it, there's two kinds of beings in this world: The assholes and the innocent. The asshole group is the group of those who deserve to die, and is comprised of most of the human race, because almost everyone has done something to deserve to die. Even you, Mrs. Lovett, even I. I kind of hate that I can reference that, I'm not normally a musical person. But the story- I mean, damn. He hit the nail on the head. Almost everyone deserves to die. Even people like Stan and Kyle. I would kill everyone myself, but I'd really rather not go to jail. I'd probably get ass-raped.

And then there are the innocent ones. Things like ants and babies and puppies and...Butters? They haven't been fucked up by the world yet. They haven't done anything to fuck up the world. Partly because they can't tell right from wrong, and partly because they're just naturally good and couldn't ever do anything wrong, even if they tried. This is why I have no qualms about killing hundreds of people but couldn't suffocate a fly under a glass.

I think Tweek belongs in the innocent category. He's just so vulnerable and naive. He doesn't deserve to die. And he doesn't deserve to have all these bastards call him crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Okay, guys, I know I didn't get his happy place right, it's like, a pond or something, I can't quite remember, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a beach. I just liked the image. Happy readings. Oh, and sorry these chapters are so freakin' short!_

_Luna_

He's asleep when I get back. I shouldn't have come, I'll wake them all up. Ah! They'll look at me with that hungry look in their eyes again. They'll chase me out! My muscles clench and release in a violent spasm.

Deep breath. In. Out.

Sit down in the chair. In. Out. In. Out. I open my eyes and look at Craig. He looks so peaceful, with his eyes fluttering and his chest moving up and down, slowly, like the ocean waves on that relaxation CD my parents gave me. I start to mimic his movements, letting my breathing fall in time with his.

Deep breath. In. Out.

I close my eyes and go to my happy place. Here, waves crash and seagulls call. The sand is warm and wet and I feel it squelch between my bare toes. My heart isn't beating as fast now. Nobody's here who can hurt me. Nobody's here at all. Wait- I see Craig, still fast asleep on a hospital bed. Ah! My heart's beating faster again. I don't like the hospital. Lose the bed.

Deep breath. In. Out.

I'm getting in control again. Now the bed's gone, and Craig's nice and cozy on a towel beside me. I've never breathed easier. I'm so glad I didn't kill Craig.

Was his chest always moving that slow? Ah! He's gonna stop breathing! He's gonna die! _I'm_gonna die! Ah! "Craig! Craig! Wake up!"


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So I meant to update last night and just… couldn't bring myself to do it. The only reason I'm updating now is because a wonderful reviewer put my story on their story alert, hurrah! Yeah, I'm not feeling my greatest lately. Hopefully an upcoming oneshot will explain all. Happy readings,_

_Luna_

I'm startled out of my sleep by the frightened screeching that is Tweek. "Craig! Wake up! You're dying!" I rub my eyes and scowl.

"What the _fuck, _Tweek?" I groan. "I was sleeping so peacefully! That painkiller had finally kicked in," I say angrily.

"You were dying! Your breathing was slowing down! I had to wake you up."

My anger melts as l look up at him. His wide brown eyes are full of genuine fear and concern. I sigh. "I wasn't dying," I say patiently. "That's the speed most people's hearts beat at when they're resting."

"Mine doesn't."

"Well, most normal people's hearts beat at that speed."

"I'm not normal!" he wails miserably. Shit. Bad choice of words. I hate seeing him so distressed. "I'm a freak!" he continues.

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant!" I say, trying to calm him down. God, he's like a little kid sometimes, he overreacts to everything. And his stupid, fucking coffee doesn't help. I want to hold him and steady his breathing. "You're not a freak, everyone else is. _You're_the normal one."

"Ah! I'm alone forever! They'll kill me!" Goddamn it. I can't say anything that_ won't _make him spaz out.

I grab his shoulders and hold him still. "Tweek, listen to me. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you." Lying through my teeth. "Now take a deep breath." I demonstrate. "That's right. In. Out." My back is hurting, I'm leaning over to reach him. Fucking double fracture. This would be so much easier if I could stand. "Come closer, Tweek, my back's starting to get sore." He inches forward slowly, eyes closed, breathing as he forms the words, in, out, in, out, silently. I pull him down so he's sitting on the side of my bed. He's calming down now, like he's lost in some sort of trance. His nose turns up a little at the tip, I notice. Cute. Twitch. His eyebrows contract in a frown, and then go smooth again. What's he thinking about?

"Craig," he says questioningly. His eyes are still closed.

"Yeah?" I answer softly.

"I've never felt this calm before," he says wonderingly.

I notice I'm still holding his shoulders. I pull him into a hug, he's just too damn cute.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: So I pretty much hate this chapter and the next chapter, but I couldn't think of anything else to do with them, so I throw them at your mercy. Please feel free to tear them to shreds. Hopefully this will actually develop into something worth reading._

I don't think Craig wants to kill me anymore. It's the weirdest thing when he hugs me... I feel his arms around me, they're really warm and they've got muscles from playing football. I don't have muscles, I can't play sports because I get overexcited. Overexcited like right now, my heart's going again. I'm feeling warm all over... I can vaguely smell Craig, he smells clean and fresh. I need more of that smell. I need it like I need coffee. My head's in his chest, now, and I'm inhaling his scent. Deep breath. In. And out, unfortunately. In. Out. He's stroking my hair and I put my arms around him. If I let go, I'll fall off the face of the earth. Craig is what I've been missing all my life. Craig is my doctor, and my pills, and my CD, and my coffee.

"Get a room, fags!" The zombie-girl is looking at us! Ah! My brains! She wants my brains! She wants Craig's brains! Ah! I have to get out of here- but I don't wanna leave Craig behind for the zombies. They'll kill him! Ah! Breath. In. Out. In. Out. Inoutinoutinoutinoutin-


	6. Chapter 6

He's out. He's passed out on the floor, all because that bitch had to go and startle him. "Shit. Fuck! You bitch! Look what you did! You can't scare him like that!"

"Like what? It's not my fault he's a cocaine addict." She's smirking at him, lying there almost dead on the ground! That's it. She's gonna die. I'm gonna beat the shit out of her for looking at him like that- but I can't. For one thing, my leg is still healing, and I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Another, I'd probably be arrested, and I don't want to get ass-raped. I take a deep breath. In. Out. Like Tweek does. Shit, Tweek! I need to call a doctor! I punch the call button on the side of my bed, and the nurse appears within minutes.

"You need somethi- oh!" She notices Tweek sprawled at the foot of my bed. "What happened?!" she exclaims. Thank God she's here, checking his pulse and doing all that other doctor-y crap. She pages someone, and another nurse comes in with a wet towel and lays it on Tweek's head. "So what happened, again?" She asks, looking up at me.

"I never got around to telling you. That _bitch_ over there freaked him out- he's already jittery and over-excited because of his damn coffee- and he started hyperventilating, and then he fainted." The girl's hiding under her covers now, pretending to be asleep. "You're not fooling anyone," I say loudly. Very slowly, she removes the covers from over her head. The nurse fixes her with a stern look.

"What did you say to him to cause him to hyperventilate? You're lucky he didn't crack his head open."

"I didn't think- I mean, normal people- they don't _do _that!" she cries.

"Do what?"

"Twitch like that! He's sick, it's not my fault he freaked when I-"

"When you what?'

"Well..." she's trying to make herself look good. "They were... behaving inappropriately... and I told them to stop."

"What were they doing?"

"They were engaging in public displays of affection." She looks damn proud of herself for getting away with hurting him. I can't wait to wipe that smug look right off her face.

"What she means is," I say loudly, "that we were _hugging_ and she told us to, I quote, 'get a room, fags.'" Hah. The nurse gasps and glares at the girl, while I laugh. Inwardly, of course.


	7. Chapter 7

When I come to, I'm in the zombie girl's bed. Oh, god, I need coffee so badly. I need- Craig! Where's Craig? "Tweek?" I hear. Thank you, Jesus. Craig's here and he's going to make it all better.

"Craig..." I moan. "Need... coffee..."

"No problem, just press the button on the side of the bed and the nurse will come." I love Craig. He always knows what to do. I press the button.

"You need something, hon?" It's funny, but when Craig's here the nurse is a lot nicer-looking.

"Yeah. I need coffee." The nurse is shaking her head "no." Why no? Why no coffee?

"Oh, no, hon, we're not supposed to let you have coffee. It overexcites you." I groan in agony. My head is splitting open! Sweet Jesus, make it stop! I promise I won't kill anyone! I need the caffeine...

"What about a caffeine drip in an IV, can I get one of those?" It hurts to form words.

"Um, no. Sorry, but it's the doctor's orders." She turns to leave. Ah! She jumps and whirls around. "What is it?" She sounds worried.

"Urg! When can I get out of here?" I grit my teeth- I can't move my jaw without my head exploding.

"You should be out in a matter of minutes," she says. "You only fainted."

"Hey, Marcy, when can I get out of this hell hole?" asks Craig. Marcy the nurse rolls her eyes.

"You'll probably be released tomorrow, I heard the doctors," she says. She sounds like she really knows Craig. Has he told her about me? What did he say?

"Thank God. I'm fucking sick of this place."

Marcy snorts. "Pardon the pun?"

I don't get it.


	8. Chapter 8

One Week Later

My leg is healing up nicely. I might get the cast off in three weeks. Today I'm at the mall with Tweek, helping him pick up some more coffee from that weird organic store that's kind of hidden in the corner. I've never been in here before, but now that I am my suspicions are confirmed: this whole fucking store is filled with fucking hippies. And Tweek. Right now, he's looking at imported coffee from Sri Lanka or Ethiopia or some other god-forsaken shit hole.

"Ah! NO! Gnomes!"

"Tweek?! You okay?" I'm at his side. His face is the image of fear as he twitches violently, pointing to someone at the register.

Oh my god it's a midget hippie.

"They've followed me! He's after my underpants!"

"Tweek, chill, man, it's just a hippie... Who happens to be a midget," I say. He drops the bag of coffee beans in his arms and jams his hands into his pants. "Tweek- Tweek, what the hell are you doing?!"

"Protecting my underpants!" He's still shaking like crazy. This would be funny if he weren't so damn scared. I sigh. Tweek wants his stupid coffee and I can't take him to the register or he'll cause an even bigger scene. I think people are already looking at us, but the midget hasn't seemed to notice yet and the other hippies probably think Tweek's on acid. Still, I don't want to take any chances. I take the coffee beans and stuff them in my cargo pants' pockets. The hippies don't have any security system -You know, 'cause they're hippies- so it's no trouble smuggling out the coffee. The freaking-out Tweek is another story, though. The register's by the door. I've got to get him out of here as quickly as possible. Goddamn gnomes.

"Okay, Tweek. Tweek, we're going to escape from the gnome, okay?"

"Urgh!" He twitches. I take that as a sign of agreement.

"In order to do that, we have to run for the door as quickly as possible."

"He'll see me! I have to hide my face!" He looks around desperately for something to hide behind. He picks up a pamphlet on The Evils of the Corporate Machine, and opens it, but it's too small to hide his face. At least that's what he thinks. He shrieks again. His head is swiveling around so frantically that I think it might actually become detached. He's looking at me now, and he looks like he has an idea. "Craig!"

"Got an idea?"

"Lemme hide behind you?" Now why didn't I think of that?

"Sure." And I'm hobbling out the door as fast as my damaged leg can carry me. Tweek's buried in the back of my shoulder, trying not to be seen. Finally, we're out!


	9. Chapter 9

We're out! Thank god, I thought that gnome was going to steal my underpants for sure. And then where would I be? All my other pairs are in the laundry.

"You okay?" Craig. He's saved me.

"You saved me!" I'm throwing my arms around him and giving him the biggest hug I've ever given anyone. Craig sighs. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, His arms are coming around my waist and hugging me back. My heart feels funny. Like it's skipped a beat. Oh god, I'm having a heart attack! Ah! "What's wrong?" Craig's asking.

"I'm having a heart attack, damn it! My heart's skipped a beat!" I'm going to die for sure this time, I just know it? Why is he laughing? This isn't funny! Dying isn't funny! This is as un-funny as AIDS!

Craig wraps his arms around me. "You aren't dying," he says exasperatedly.

And then his lips touch mine. They're soft and smooth and I'm melting into him. My legs are jello and oh my god now I'm really dying need air need air need-

Deep breath. In. Out.

Relax.


	10. Chapter 10

I don't know how I feel about being gay. I mean, it's not like I'm homophobic. I hate gays just as much as I hate other people, and I'm sure as hell not scared of them. It's just weird, considering I'm typically one to lust after girls. (But only in magazines- the only girls I've ever met are either ugly or sluts. Or Wendy.) Does this make me bisexual? Hell, does it even matter? Tweek is perfect. He's the one human being I've never, ever thought about killing. He cares about me. I mean, sure, he's a little twitchy, but it makes him... endearing? Woah. I've never encountered anyone else I could deem "endearing."

I'm fiercely making out with him now. I've shoved my tongue down his throat and if I'm not careful I might suffocate him... his lips taste like coffee, but further down, inside his mouth, he tastes like mint. I think it's his gum habit. He told me his dad said that if you were to have a coffee habit, then you should also have a gum habit in order to counter the coffee breath. Smart guy, Tweek's dad. Maybe his foresaw that his son would be sucking face with a teenage misanthrope? Speaking of his son...

Tweek's practically jello in my arms. He's lost all resistance, and he's quivering in my arms. He's melted into me. I hoist him up and hold him tighter. Suddenly, his body spasms and he's alive, kissing me back passionately. Then he pulls away and looks up at me with those big brown eyes. "Craig?" He asks breathlessly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again for saving me."


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

We sit across from the basketball court at South Park High. I don't care much for basketball- I'm more of a football person myself- but Kyle does, and he likes to watch while he's studying. So here we sit, he with a biology book on his lap, and me with the latest piece of take-home torture (i.e. literature) from english class. "Dude, I'm seriously thinking about taking this to the Mexicans," I say to Kyle, who's watching the game excitedly. He looks at me, annoyed at my interruption.

"Don't do that, you did that with Macbeth last month, remember? And Cartman's going to do the exact same thing, so you'll probably end up with the same report and Mrs. Garrison's going to call you on cheating." I can't believe that bitch is still teaching us. Our class has got to have the worst luck... "Stan! Dude! Check out Craig and Tweek!"

"What about them?"

Kyle's eyes are glued to the basketball court. "Craig's like... _helping_Tweek. He had one of his little spaz-fits or something and fell on the court, and Craig helped him up." I find the pair on the court. They're on the sidelines, and Craig is cleaning Tweek's scraped knee while Tweek... jumps and twitches.

"It's okay, Tweek," I hear from Craig.

"What if I die?!"

"You'll live, I promise," says Craig soothingly. I'm as bewildered as Kyle- Craig never talks to anyone like that. We're even more surprised when Craig briefly but warmly embraces the spaz, and kisses him on the forehead.

"Hey, back on the court, loverboy!" calls Token jokingly.

Craig turns, scowling. "Fuck you!" he replies, before flicking Token off.

Kyle and I laugh our asses off.

_And now... a treat for reading the whole thing! This is actually the beginning of a one-shot, but it's the only part that isn't utter crap so it's the only part I'm posting. It's also waaay too short to post separately, which is why I'm posting it here. Enjoy!_

Gregory sat back forcefully, panting as if he had just run a three-minute mile. From between his legs, a scruffy-haired boy emerged, licking his lips and smirking triumphantly. "You see?" said the Mole, "I told you ze French are better at zis sort of thing."


End file.
